


John Mulligan 14 Day Writing Challenge

by Abiwim



Category: John Mulligan - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abiwim/pseuds/Abiwim
Summary: deepestfirefun over on Tumblr is sponsoring this challenge.





	1. Chapter 1

_Day 1 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 959_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: None_

John Mulligan pushed open the trap door and clamoured up through the hole in the floor. He checked to ensure that he was still neat and tidy, flicking some fluff from his sleeve and dust from the cuff of his trousers.

He turned to his companion and said, “Make sure that Pete locks that door when he leaves. If he fucking does it again, I’m personally going to rip his hair out.” He didn’t say it with any passion, just complete and utter surety.

John oversaw his operation with an eagle eye. Nothing happened that he didn’t know about it. It wasn’t a huge operation, he only employed 10 packers, a few dealers and his right hand, Jeremy. At this moment in time the packers were working busily below, cutting the cocaine that came in today from Romania. John kept things pure, he didn’t cut anything into his product. His goal was to make money, he couldn’t do that if his clients were dead.

Black leather gloves in hand, he tapped Jeremy on the chest and told him of his plans for the next few days. “I’ll be meeting with Lou Poscano in Edinburgh on Tuesday, so I’m gonna take a couple of days on the way up.”

Jeremy understood exactly where John would be taking those days. He kept a small cottage on Derwent Water near Keswick. It was off the beaten track, quiet and exactly what John needed right now.

He clapped Jeremy on the shoulder and continued, “I expect to be in Edinburgh for 2 or 3 days. Is there anything you need before I leave?”

Jeremy shook his head, he was a man of few words. “Enjoy!” he called to John’s retreating figure.

John put his arm up in salute and gave a small wave, but he did not look back. He had utter confidence in Jeremy. He walked through the large warehouse, used to park school buses. He smirked as he thought about where his business was located. He and Tracy’s husband owned the bus company; John thought it amusing that he carted around the same school kids he sold to.

He started up his Land Rover and headed for the M4. 2 hours later he was pulling into the town of Keswick and seeking out his favourite pub. From time immemorial it had been the Four in Hand, but now it went by the posher sounding The Wainwright. John didn’t care what it was called, he just wanted a good meat pie and a beer.

The place was packed, so John took a seat at the bar. He put in his order and swiveled around on the stool to peruse the crowd. The majority had that tell-tale tourist quality about them. John smirked and shook his head…sheep.

He swung back to the counter and checked his phone. ‘No news is good news.’

His attention was caught by the handbag that was placed on the counter not far from where his beer rested. Surreptitiously, he glanced to his right. The woman was shapely, not super thin, with rounded curves. Her hair fell in soft waves down to her waist, in the dim light of the pub it looked like it might be strawberry blonde.

He twisted his barstool in her direction. Green eyes met his blue, eyes that held great intelligence and sophistication. He held out his hand, “John Mulligan,” and eyed her up and down.

“Really?” She arched a brow at him. “Should I care?”

He chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. “Probably not, but I do.”

She held his gaze for a few moments and gave him her name. “Diana Webster.” They shook hands for a little longer than necessary. “Do you live around here?”

“No, but I do have a little cottage on the water. I’m stopping in on my way to Edinburgh.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Oh, very definitely business!” He grinned, “The guy I am meeting with is never a pleasure.”

Her eyebrow rose again as she asked, “What kind of business are you in? Waste disposal?”

John threw his head back and laughed, “No, no. My brother in law and I have a fleet of school buses.”

Diana smiled, “That does not sound particularly displeasurable.”

The bartender set John’s meal in front of him and Diana eyed it hungrily. John smiled, “Do you want to share?” As she waved her hands in front of herself saying, “no, no” John continued, “I will never be able to eat the whole thing.” Diana eyeballed him. “Honestly, I won’t eat it all.” He got the bartender’s attention, “Hey! Can we get another fork over here?”

“Do you often share your meal with a total stranger?”

John touched her forearm, “Only the pretty ones.”

“Riiiight,” she shook her head and giggled. She thanked the bartender for the fork as John pushed the plate between them. Diana held up her fork, tapped hers against his and proclaimed, “Cheers!”

The two ate in relative silence, enjoying the rich pie.

Mouth full, John asked, “Do you have a husband?” She shook her head no, “A boyfriend?”

**“Nah, I don’t have time for boyfriends.”**

**“As in plural?** Keep them hanging on, do you?”

“Hardly! Jeez, I haven’t dated in a couple of years – too busy with work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a police detective.”

John felt his stomach drop! He scanned her face, it was guileless.

He leaned in closer to Diana and told her, “I’ll be your boyfriend.” John always loved to play on the dangerous side.

Diana hooted, “ **Aren’t you the confident one**!”

John shrugged, “All you can say is yes or no.” He put his hand on her knee and leaned in even closer, “And I think you are going to say yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Day 2 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 968_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Many uses of the F word_

**We all have that one day when nothing goes according to plan. So what happens when your character has a very bad day?**

It was raining again. John flicked open the curtain and sighed. It has rained 4 days in a row. John hated the rain. Most of his dealers conducted their business out of doors, rain meant fewer sales.

At about 3 in the afternoon he decided to go and check how the packers were progressing with the latest shipment. It might be about time to train up some new recruit; the ones he currently had were starting to get lazy. He couldn’t figure it out, he paid well; heck, he even had a health insurance package for them! Technically they were employed by the bus line.

He hopped onto the M60 to go from his house in Stockport to the warehouse in Salford. As he made the turn onto the A56 he heard a loud bang, felt a shudder run through the Range Rover and fought to keep it on the road. He came to a stuttering halt on the shoulder. A deep sigh and a few moments to calm his nerves later, he hopped out of the vehicle and made his way around to the back. His passenger side rear tire was in shreds! “Fuck!” he shouted and banged his fist into the rover.

John scowled as he raised the tailgate. He mumbled, “Fuck me,” as he looked at the stuff piled in the back of the rover. “This is why you should do things right away, Mulligan. You stupid twat.” Just the day before he had cleaned up his office, the rear of the vehicle was full of cardboard filing boxes.

He sighed and started hauling out the boxes, placing them on the mud covered shoulder. 5 minutes later, rain dripping down the collar of his jacket, with his hair plastered against his scalp, he stood looking at the boxes as they started to sag in the rain.

He was pissed!

He turned back to the rover and struggled with the intricate strap unit used to pull out the tire. The whole time he muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity bloody fuck!” He looked at the tool for removing the wheel bolts, “What does this do?”

Trudging to the front of the vehicle he forcefully opened the passenger door and rifled through the glovebox to find the user manual. He read through the instructions a few times before he understood what the procedures were.

Hunkering down beside the rover, he placed the jack in the appropriate place and started raising it. From here out removing the blown tire and replacing it progressed quickly. As he was throwing the shredded tire into the back of the rover, the skies let loose. Up to this point, the rain had been a steady sprinkle God must have it out for him today as it now came in a deluge.

He turned back to the filing boxes and started to put them back. Taking a hold of the first one he started to tug it up only to feel the telltale give of the box. He stopped, thinking, ‘These boxes aren’t going to make it.’

Very gently he shuffled his hands under the box, hoping his arms would be enough support to get them into the rover. Slowly, box by soggy box, he stowed them away. 3 remained; the 3 that had been standing in the mud. If these had been anything else but his business papers (and not the bus business!) he would have said “screw it” and left them where they were.

Box number one was fairly successful. He managed to get his hands under it and to the rover, but as soon as he tried to put it down the bottom fell out. With a squishy plop, the papers landed on top of the other boxes. ‘At least they are in,’ he thought.

He eyeballed the 2 remaining boxes. Box number 2 made it to the back of the rover and collapsed before entry. Angrily, he tossed the box aside and grabbed piles of paper from the roadway, tossing them willy-nilly into the back.

A sudden crack of thunder made him jump. He grabbed at his heart, panting…thunderstorms were not his favourite thing.

His fear made him attempt to get the last box in quickly. Frantically he hauled up the box, with the resultant loss of paper. As he shuttled the piles to the rover some, from the middle of the box, started blowing down the shoulder.

John chased them down, slipping and falling in the muddy shoulder. With papers clasped tightly in each fist, he raised his arms in the air shouting, “Jesus fucking Christ!” Thunder clapped nearby! John looked around guiltily.

The hunt and chase for papers continued for a few minutes before he got every last scrap of paper back into his Range Rover.

He closed the tailgate and leaned his head against the rear window. Groaning loudly he rolled his forehead back and forth across the grass, wondering why this was happening.

He squelched into the driver’s seat and turned on the heating unit; he was chilled to the bone. He drove the last few miles to the warehouse, making sure to stay under the 80 km/hour limit on the spare tire.

John hauled open the door to the warehouse and made his way to the back. He opened the trapdoor to his operation and trudged down the stairs. Once he reached the bottom he looked around in bafflement. The place was empty. Not a single soul could be found. All of the tools were cleaned and tidily set where they belonged.

Anger flooded John. “Where the hell is everyone?” he muttered. A questioning look crossed his face and he looked at his watch. 17:30. Everyone had gone home. He lowered himself onto the closest chair, elbows on knees, head in hand and growled, “Fuck me!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't do drugs, kids!

_Day 3 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 783_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Swearing, reference to pot use_

The party was winding down when John went in search of Dave.

Dave had been John’s friend since childhood and had never really grown up. He was irresponsible, smug, obnoxious…John wasn’t really sure why he put up with him, except that he had always just been there. John’s mother used to say, “Johnnie, you’ve got to take care of David. He needs your guidance.”

Dammit Mother!

He finally found him, deep in a corner of the garden, toking it up with a bunch of wankers. All he had to do, really, was follow the smell of the weed. Dave’s weed was always the smelliest he could find. From what he could tell, tonight’s must have been Space Queen. It smelled of rank, 3-day-old mouldy cheese!

“Jesus Christ, man! What are you doing now?”

Dave threw his arm around John’s shoulder, resulting in the other man turning his head away in disgust. “Johnnie! Man, you gotta try this stuff! It’s primo!”

John looked at him and deadpanned, “You know I don’t do drugs. That shit’ll rot your brain.”

The wankers snickered. One of them muttered, “Loser.”

John crossed to him and, chest to chest, sneered, “What was that, mate?”

Despite being higher than a kite, he was not stupid enough to argue with the giant man. At 6’2” John towered over him, a tightly coiled take-no-shit attitude and daily trips to the gym resulting in an intimidating figure.

“Sorry man…” the wanker turned to his friends and encouraged, “Let’s get out of here, fellas.” He turned to Dave, “Thanks for the toke, man. We’ll catch ya later!”

John watched the three stumble across the garden and muttered, “What are you doing with guys like that, Dave?”

“C’mon John, we’re just having some fun.”

John shook his head and took Dave by the sleeve of his jacket, “Let’s get you home, you dullard.”

John had all the windows of the Range Rover open. Dave stunk to high heaven! “Dude! Why the hell do you do that stuff?”

Dave sat, sullen, in the passenger seat. “Get off your holier-than-thou high horse, mate! You sell the fucking stuff!”

“Yeah, I sell it; I don’t partake!”

“Hypocrite.”

John glanced at him. He had thought about this many times, was he a hypocrite? He didn’t think so. If other people wanted to rot their brains on the stuff he might just as well profit from it. He was not the morality police and, in actual fact, he wished he could dump Dave’s sorry ass but he knew the flack he would get from his mother made it not worth the trouble. He feared his mother’s wrath far more than the inconvenience Dave caused.

He knew it was a waste of time to try to explain his position to Dave.

“Look, just shut-“

John’s heart rate sped up as he saw the tell-tale blue and red flash of lights appearing behind him.

“Fuck!” He checked his speedometer, nope not speeding. Christ, was the smell of Dave wafting behind  him?

He pulled to the side and turned off the vehicle. He cast sideways glances at Dave, hoping against all hope that he would keep his trap shut.

The constable approached John’s window and asked for his documents. John could see his nostrils flaring and felt a rising need to vomit.

“Do you know why I stopped you?” the constable asked.

“No, sir.”

“Please wait here.”

John mumbled, “Fuck! Holy shit Dave! You’re fuckery is gonna get me in deep shit!”

**“What? Are you crying? At least you don´t have weed in your pocket,”** Dave giggled.

“You fuck-head! **You’ve got drugs in the car?!”**

**“I tried to warn you before that cop stopped us, dumbass,”** Dave could not stop giggling.

“No you didn’t!”

Dave stared at John and sputtered, “Oh man! You look so serious! What can they do to you?”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I swear if we get out of this, I am gonna beat the shit out of you!”

John jumped when the constable returned and handed him back his papers. “Mr. Mulligan, you’re right rear tail light is out.” John slumped in relief as the officer wrote out a warning. “Please get it repaired and present yourself at your local station.”

“Absolutely, thank you constable,” John took the warning and smiled at the officer.

He turned to leave, took a step forward, then stepped back and leaned on the open window frame. He gave Dave a sharp look and sighed, “And sir, tell your friend to lay off the weed.”

“I keep trying!” John shook the officer’s hand.

Dave hooted, “See? No worries mate!”

John shook his head and grumbled, **“You are gonna to be the death of me…”**


	4. Chapter 4

_Day 4 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 1377_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Foul language_

“Thank you for doing this John!”

John was a sucker when it came to his family. His sister Tracy and her husband Derek hadn’t had a night out for months. He wondered what they expected when they got the puppy; just like babies they need constant attention.

Now, John was not a big animal person. He was a tad too fastidious for them, but whenever Tracy turns her big brown doe eyes on him he melts like ice cream in the Sahara.

So, as she and Derek were rushing around trying to get out the door they tossed out random instructions.

“Take her outside every 2 hours or so.”

“She is teething, so make sure she doesn’t chew on anything other than the teething rings. They are in the freezer.”

“She’ll probably sleep a lot, it’s fine if she does.”

John finally had enough, “For Christ’s sake! She is a dog, how hard can it be?”

Derek and Tracy looked at each other and laughed. “Oh, you just wait and see!”

The puppy trotted into the lounge. John’s eyes went wide! The thing was massive! “I thought you said she was a puppy?” he marveled.

“She is a Bernese Mountain dog, so yeah, she is big.”

The puppy sniffed around John’s feet for a moment and then bounded to her dad. She did a few trots around his legs and then went up on her hind legs and thrust herself into his arms.

**“She’s a handful isn’t she?”** John swallowed, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

“Bea, at the moment, is running the household,” his sister explained. “She will settle down eventually.”

Bea returned to John and sat patiently waiting for him to touch her. With trepidation John reached out his hand and ruffled her ears. He grinned as he saw her tail swishing across the floor in a great arc. He hunched down and cooed, “Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Bea responded with a lick of her giant tongue up his cheek. “Blurgh!” he exclaimed, as he reached for his handkerchief to wipe his face.

Tracy clapped and squealed, “Oh boy, she likes you!”

John stumbled back as Bea wrapped her forepaws around his leg. He looked down at the dog in abhorrence. Bea’s back end was knocking against his leg in a definite rythym.

“Oh for Christ’s sake!” John growled.

Derek laughed, cajoling the dog, “C’mon Bea, stop that! **Oh yes, she´s** a little **horny, she** definitely **likes you!”** He shuffled his wife to the door and waved, “ **Enjoy!”**

“Bloody hell!” John ran his hand through his hair as the door closed. He looked down at the dog and said, “So, what shall we do?” Bea looked at him, her head cocked this way and that. John chuckled as her ears flopped. “At least you are cute!”

He led her outside to the garden and threw a ball for her. She chased it, picked it up in her jaws but only brought it back halfway. John sunk down onto his haunches and encouraged her to come all the way, “C’mon girl! Bring it here!”

She dropped the ball and charged toward him. “No, no Bea! Slow down!” Nothing would convince her to slow down and, with a woof, she barreled right into him. John covered his head with his arms and rolled around in the grass trying to keep the dog from licking him to death. He panted with laughter each time Bea got a swipe of her tongue at him.

“Alright! Alright, I give!” He hauled himself into a cross-legged sitting position, prompting the dog to climb into his lap. He chuckled and ruffled her ears again, “You are a goofball!”

He shoved her off of him and fetched the ball. Over the next half hour he managed to teach Bea to retrieve the ball. “You are such a good girl!” He was on his knees at her level, scratching her back. He watched her tail swish, it was fascinating.

“Okay girl. How about something to eat?” Bea ran around in circles, barking excitedly. “So? That is a yes?” he quipped. He tapped the side of his leg and sauntered into the house. The dog followed on his heels.

John shook his head when he saw the note with instructions left for him on the kitchen counter; it covered a page and a half. He looked down at Bea, who was entirely focused on him, and shook his head. “You’re a dog. How much could I possibly need to know?”

It turned out that the instructions for preparing her food were precise. Luckily Tracy had prepped everything beforehand, he just had to put it together. He had to pull rice, carrots, peas and beef cubes from the refrigerator, cut them up, mix it all together and heat it in the microwave for no more than 35 seconds.

“No more, no less,” he explained to Bea. She barked in response.

He placed her food in the designated spot and turned to prepare his own supper.

John was beginning to look upon the dog as his little niece. So, despite instructions to the contrary, when she came to sit beside him and looked at him sadly he couldn’t resist sharing.

“Yes, Uncle John is spoiling you. Yes I am. Oh, yes I am!” he said to her in a sing-song voice.

Once they were finished supper, they made their way to the living room. John chose a blu-ray, popped it in and sprawled across the sofa. Bea jumped up and made herself comfortable in between his legs. John grimaced at her, “You know you aren’t supposed to be up here,” but did nothing to get her off.

John must have dozed off. He woke up, groggy, slightly confused about where he was, “What am I doing at Tracy’s?”

He rolled himself off the couch into a sitting position and got up to make his way to the bathroom. The room was dark as he stumbled to the cloakroom. A sudden yelp caused him to jump and he remembered what he was doing there.

“Oh no! Bea? Bea honey,” he flicked on the lights and searched for her. He found her cowering under the dining table. He got down on all fours and crawled under with her. He lay down beside her, petting her from head to tail. “I’m sorry sweet girl. **Are you okay? Are you alright?** ” He felt horrible.

They were still laying there when, 5 minutes later, Tracy called out, “John? Where are you?”

John sat straight up, crashing his head into the bottom of the table. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. Bea barked.

Tracy stuck her head into the dining room and looked at him quizzically, laid out on his back, rubbing his head. “ **What the hell are you doing?** ”

Bea ran to her mom, tail wagging crazily. She sank down and hugged the dog.

John said frantically, “Trace, check her paw!”

Tracy held up one of Bea’s paws and cocked her eyebrow. “This one?”

John crawled out from under the table, “Yeah! I accidentally stepped on her!”

Tracy started to giggle.

“No! Really I trod on it pretty hard!”

“Awwww, Uncle Johnnie, are you worried?”

John rose to his full height, straightened his clothes and refused to look at her. He chided, “Don’t make fun of me.” He shot quick glances at her and the dog and begged, “But really? Is she alright?”

Tracy smiled, “Yes John. She is fine.” She got the dog’s attention and said, “Go find Daddy!” Bea shot from the room with a bark. “See John,” Tracy crossed to her brother, “she is fine.”

“Good,” he pouted.

“Did you fall in love with my dog?” she teased.

John continued to look away before admitting, “Yeah, I did. Don’t tell anyone!” He scowled unconvincingly, “I don’t want to become the go-to baby dog sitter!”

Tracy wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. She gazed up at him, “Thank you big brother.”

John squeezed her and laid his head on top of hers, “You’re welcome. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Ohhh, anything?” She left his embrace, cackled and rubbed her hands together.

John rolled his eyes, shook his head and muttered, “Jesus Christ!”


	5. Chapter 5

_Day 5 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 1052_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Smut / masturbation_

**Your character is utterly done with the people around them and decides to spend some time alone.**

“Jeremy! I don’t want to hear about it anymore!” John had had it with the grumbling of his right hand. Normally Jeremy was quiet and, unless insightful, kept his thoughts to himself. Today, he was on John about a botched packing job.

“It was a whole 8 ball**, Johnnie! How can you be so blasé about it?”

John placed his hands on the tabletop and leaned in close to Jeremy, “I have more important things on my mind, ok?” John had recently lost a key transport link into Scotland. His meeting with Lou Poscano, his Scottish front, had not gone well. He hadn’t liked the fact that John refused to cut additional elements into his coke; said it resulted in lower revenue. ‘Yeah, that may be true,’ John thought, ‘but I am not willing to lower my standards.’

Jeremy scowled and shook his head. John shot him a look of reproof, “Leave it!”

John approached his newest recruit, Florence had fumbled the package resulting in the loss. In the long run it would amount to about £60 so he wasn’t sure why Jeremy was freaking out so bad. “Flo, you need to be more careful, right love?”

“Yes, Mr. Mulligan-“

“John.”

“Yes, J-John. I’m sorry, the trapdoor slammed and it made me jump about a foot in the air.”

John grinned at her, “S’alright. Shit happens, right?”

Flo looked sheepish, “Expensive shit, though.”

“Yep.”

John was kind of done with people for the day. He decided it might well be time to go home and relax. He exited through the trapdoor, but didn’t get far before Derek was chasing after him. “Hey John!”

John rolled his eyes and turned to his brother in law, “Derek.”

“I’m gonna need you to sign off on the new petrol invoices.”

“Can it wait? I really need to get out of here.”

Derek scowled at him. John was, essentially, the owner of 2 businesses, but it wasn’t like he actually had to do any business for the bus line. All he had to do was sign off on shit, it was up to him to do the actual work. “Christ John! I just need a signature.”

John did not “just sign” anything. He always took the time to review all documents. After all, it was his business as well; plus he needed the place to operate totally on the up and up in order to maintain the front for the other business.

He sighed and headed for Derek’s office. He grabbed the stack of invoices and went to his own office. Once he was settled in his chair he reviewed all of the invoices and laid his signature to the cover sheet. ‘Another fucking hour here!’ He rubbed the back of his neck, it was full of knots and tender to the touch. ‘I need a shower.’

He tossed the documents onto Derek’s desk and said, “I am going home. I needed a shower an hour ago, now I need the hottest fucking shower I can get!”

Derek grinned at him, “You are a wanker.”

John paused at the door and looked back at the man, “Fuck you!” He laughed and headed for the Range Rover.

The drive back to his home did not take long, usually it was about a half an hour. Today an accident on the M60 had them backed up for miles; it took almost 2 hours to get home. By this time John was done, with a capital D!

He slammed the door from the garage to the boot room and stomped his way, like a petulant child, up the stairs to his bedroom. He left a trail of clothes as he made his way to the bathroom, set the temperature on the digital controller for the shower and pushed the ‘start’ button.

“Ahhhhh,” he moaned as he stepped into the jets of water. He allowed the stream to hit the back of his neck for many minutes. His hands sluiced the water down his chest when the memory of his night with Detective Inspector Diana Webster returned.

Almost instantly his dick was standing at attention! He remembered her sensuous curves, the perfect roundness of her breasts, the sweet wetness of her pussy. He teased at his own nipples as he went back to the feel of hers in his mouth, the deep moans she made as he traced her aureoles with his tongue.

He smoothed his hands down the side of his body, pretending they were hers. Long thin fingers, her short nails leaving traces of scratches along his belly. His thumb swirled into his belly button; it wasn’t his thumb, but her tongue lavishing attention on the sensitive spot.

He continued lower, inching his fingers just past is penis; down his thighs, he kneaded his flesh before gently squeezing his balls. He rolled them in the palm of his hands, groaning at the memory of them in her mouth; her teeth nipping at them sharply.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He took his dick in his strong grip, slowly shuttling his hand up and down. The skin moved silkily under his palm, a delicious snug fit. He tightened his grip, throwing back his head. Her mouth had been there, as well. Warm and wet, the suction she used had almost made him spill right away. He copied her expertise. Hard and fast, then loosening, savouring the feeling.

“Oh fuck!” he shouted, remembering that he was home and could be as loud as he wished. “Fuck, this is so good!”

He went to his knees, imagining the feel of her backside as he plunged his cock deep into her vagina. The moistness of her, the warmth enveloping, surrounding his dick was exquisite. In his minds’ eye he had one hand on her breast, the other was tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, his lips sucking at her neck.

In reality, his hand was shuttling back and forth, now at speed! He cried out as he came! Hard and fast, his sperm shooting out in a forceful streak of white.

He fell over onto all fours, panting. He rolled onto his back, both arms stretched out to the side, enjoying the feeling of the hot water hitting him in the chest. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Much better than people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Approx. 3.5 grams, or 1/8 of an ounce


	6. Chapter 6

_Day 6 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 1099_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Language_

**Your character gets locked out from their own apartment, how will they solve this problem?**

John pressed the button closing the garage door before he turned off the Range Rover. He was returning from a trip to London and the 4 hour drive had wrung him out; all he wanted to do was sink into a nice, hot bath. He removed his bags from the boot and placed them by the interior door to the boot room.

With one suitcase in hand he turned the door knob and nothing happened.

“What the hell?” He tried the door knob again. Normally he left this door unlocked.

He paused and thought for a moment, ‘Do I have a spare key in here?’

He rooted around some pots and his tool chest, but he was quite certain that there was no spare.

“Oh well,” he shrugged. “I’ll just pop around to the front door.”

He pressed the big button on the wall that activates the garage door. Once again, nothing happened. He tried the button in the Rover. Nothing happened.

“Bloody fucking hell! What is going on?”

He stomped back to the house door and slammed his palm against the button numerous times. When it still did not respond he started banging his head against the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he screamed.

Angrily he went through his tools. Perhaps he could find something to jerry rig the door. He found an awl (‘Why in the hell do I have an awl?’) and approached the knob. He lined up the awl with the keyhole and tried to insert it. “Argh! No!” He threw it to the ground.

He next found a length of copper wire, that didn’t work.

“Maybe I can unscrew the knob?” He ran his fingers around the workings, but there were no screw heads. “Must be on the inside…” he mumbled.

He looked at the window and thought about smashing it. “Whoa John. Take it easy…last resort, that’s a last resort!”

John tried everything he could think of: body slamming the door, pry barring the door (he couldn’t get the pry bar hook wedged in,) he tried to pop out the keyhole section of the knob with a screwdriver. By the time he gave up the door knob was bent out of shape, there were big gauges in the door frame, there were scuff marks all over the door and sweat was pouring down his face.

He screamed in frustration. He looked up at the window in resignation, “Fuck it!”

Along the wall that contained the window were arranged detritus from various projects around the house: bricks, a few bags of sand, bags of salt for the water purifier. He removed the bags of salt from under the window.

The window was high up on the wall, a good 10 feet. (The garage had been built over-sized to accommodate a caravan.) John hauled out an A Frame ladder and placed it near the window wall. Although it was taller than him, there was no way he could reach the window from it.

He went, again, to the back of the garage and pulled out the extendible ladder. Now, John was not afraid of heights, but he was _not_ overly keen on ladders. He placed the ladder against the wall and looked around for something he could use to brace the feet. Across the garage he spied a couple of old tires. He dragged them across the floor and secured them in front of the ladder.

He held a hammer in one hand and looked up at the window. “C’mon John. You got this. It’s just a ladder,” he sighed and put his foot on the bottom rung. With each step up he said a little prayer, “Stay upright. Nice ladder, you just stay as you are.”

Finally he reached the highest rung he needed to be at; at this height he could smash the window, clear it of glass and should be able to wriggle out of it.

With a deep breath he placed his left arm in front of his face and smashed the window with the other. In his head he did a little victory dance! “Yeah, you’re the man!”

He almost toppled off the ladder when a sudden noise made his heart jump and his pulse race! It was the click and whir of the garage door. Somebody was coming into the garage!

He watched, his mouth agape, as a sleek Audi A7 purred into the garage. Tracy folded herself out of the car and stood, watching her brother. He was 9 feet up a ladder, hanging on with one arm laced through the rung, his clothes wrinkled, dirt smudged across his face; but he was grinning at her like a nutter.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Uhhh,” John replied sheepishly. “Trying to get out.”

“Get out?”

“Yeah, the house door is locked and the garage door wouldn’t open,” he shrugged. “I had to get out of here somehow.”

Tracy crossed over to the ladder and laughed. 2 giant tires were holding the ladder in place, she could see the drag marks across the floor. “Umm, John?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you just use the bricks to hold the ladder in place?”

John was halfway down the ladder when he flushed red. He tried not to meet his sister’s eyes. “I didn’t think of it.”

“And John?”

“Yes?”

“How were you going to get down on the other side of the window?” John’s mouthed opened and closed a few times, but he could not answer. “Hum, I thought so. I probably would have come back to find you splayed out on the ground, broken limbs and you bleeding from all the glass that I bet is all over the walkway. You _do_ remember that there is no grass back there, right?”

John sighed. “Yes Tracy.” He rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Tracy held up a small bag. “I was out getting replacement batteries for the garage door opener.”

“Well, why did you lock the door?”

Tracy gawked at him. “What is the point of having your house locked up tight, if you leave a door unlocked?” John shrugged. Tracy shook her head and took her brother by the arm. She led him to the door, unlocked it and pushed him through. “You get cleaned up. I’m going to replace this battery and then I am going back to the DIY centre.”

“What for?”

“To get you a keypad lock for this door…” Tracy’s voiced tailed off as she looked at the doorframe. “…after I call someone to fix the mess you have made of it!”


	7. Chapter 7

_Day 7 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 601_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Sibling silliness_

“Jonathan Richard Mulligan!”

‘Oh oh!’ thought John. ‘Tracy is on the warpath!’

John put his best smile on his face and sauntered into the kitchen. “Yes, darling sister?”

“What is this?” Tracy stood at the kitchen island holding up lengths of cotton twine. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

John shrugged. “What?” John was thoroughly confused. “You asked me to cut you some twine. You didn’t say how long to cut it.”

She shook her head and mumbled, ““ **Three inches…you can’t do anything with three inches. Ask any woman they’ll tell you…”** She sighed and spoke very slowly, “I am making a roast. I asked you to cut me some twine to tie up the roast. Do you seriously think three inches is enough to go around a roast?”

John sucked on his cheek and made a face, “No…I suppose not.” He raised his eyebrow and grinned, “You could tie them all together!”

Tracy deadpanned, “Cut me some more twine. Please.”

John sighed and pulled the twine from the cupboard. “How long do you want it?”

“Long.”

He started measuring out a length of twine as long as his arm, “Like this?”

“Keep going.” It actually was long enough, Tracy was simply looking to make him feel as dumb as possible. It was a sister thing.

When John had a length 5 times the length she needed she finally told him to stop. He came to stand beside her and, holding the twine up, dropped it slowly onto the counter forming a design. “Really? That much.”

Tracy grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the twine into further pieces. John scowled at her. He picked up a knife and started to cut carrots. “So, are three inches really not enough for a woman?”

Tracy rolled her eyes and chuckled, “I suppose it could be as long as the man knows what to do with it.”

“Glad I don’t have to worry about it.”

“Really John?” She gaped at him, “Do I really need to know that?”

“What? Would you rather know where it happens?”

Tracy closed her eyes and held her hands over her head, praying, “Please say the bedroom, please say the bedroom!”

John tapped on the counter.

**“Really? Here too?”**

John grinned and nodded.

“Eww, eww, eww,” Tracy squealed, shaking her head and sticking out her tongue.

John threw his head back and laughed. He whispered, “I’ve done it _everywhere._ ”

Tracy made fake vomiting sounds.

“Being comfortable is very important.”

“ **Was that a problem at one point?”**

John placed both hands on the edge of the counter and made humping gestures with his hips. “Just the right height!”

His sister squeezed her eyes shut, “Please make it stop!”

“Well, you know, when the women are short you need to take advantage of the surroundings.”

“ **That’s not even a situation** where you need to use the kitchen facilities!”

Tracy turned to put the roast into the oven. At that moment her husband, Derek, entered the kitchen. Upon seeing his wife’s rear on display he gave the thumbs up symbol to John, who winked at him knowingly, and gave her ass a squeeze.

Tracy squeaked and whirled around, smacking Derek in the chest.

He looked at her with puppy dog eyes and a comical frown and whimpered, “What? **I haven’t even done anything.** ”

She reached up and wrapped her arms around him, “I’m sorry my darling.” Over his shoulder she stuck her tongue out at John. “It’s my brother’s fault! He is a disgusting pig!”

John scowled and shrugged, “It’s my house. I can fuck someone wherever I want.”


	8. Chapter 8

_Day 8 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 432_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Fluff_

John breathed in deeply. The warm, comforting scent of fresh-brewed coffee washed over him causing the tension to seep out of his shoulders. He stood for a moment, just inside the door, savouring the smells.

He was blasted out of his reverie by someone entering the coffee shop and slamming into his back.

“Ooof!” he grunted. “Watch where you are going!” He turned angrily on the interloper, only to stop and stare open-mouthed. Before him stood a woman, about his age, her mouth in a surprised “O”. She was not tall, but not short, with medium length curly brown hair. Her eyes were a dark grey in colour, in her shock he could see her pupils widening, her long lashed lids blinking wildly.

“Oh my! I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” She grabbed his hands and pleaded, “Please, let me buy you a coffee!”

John was enchanted. He mumbled, “ **Good morning** …”

She shrugged and grimaced, “ **Is it?** It **sure doesn’t feel like it** ,” she stepped beside him and looked up into his handsome face. “Maybe it is improving,” she smiled sweetly.

“John Mulligan,” John said, extending his hand.

The woman took it, “Jeanine Munro. It is a pleasure to meet you, John.”

They approached the counter, the barista greeted them, “Good morning, welcome to The Black Walnut. How can I help you today?”

“I’ll have a plain medium coffee, please.”

John looked at her aghast, “What? No fancy frappe-lappa whatever?”

She laughed, a delightful honey toned vibration, “No, definitely not. I am a no-nonsense kind of woman.”

“Thank goodness.” John dramatically wiped his brow. He turned to the barista, “I’ll have the same, please.”

John was surprised to feel her hand on his arm as he reached for his wallet. “ **What are you doing?** ” Jeanine asked, feigning outrage. “This one is on me.”

John looked at Jeanine appraisingly, “Just this once.”

“There will be other opportunities?” she glanced up at him through her lashes.

“That is my plan.” As they picked up their drinks John asked, “You will join me?”

Jeanine nodded.

They sat quietly across from each other for a few moments before John asked her, “What are your plans for the day?”

“Well, first **I am patiently waiting for my coffee to lie to me about how productive I’m gonna be today** …” John laughed. “Then I really should get some work done.”

John nodded, “Yeah, I suppose I should too…”

She pondered the man for a moment, appraisingly, before saying, “I could be convinced to do otherwise…”

John smiled and insisted, “That would be for the best.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Day 9 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 1271_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Almost Smut_

John stowed the suitcases in the back of the Range Rover, made sure it was tidy and pulled down the rear door. He shook hands with his new Scottish distributer, Donna Grant, and went on his way. He was travelling home with 2 suitcases; one full of clothes, the other full of weed. Normally, John would not be transporting the stuff, he hated the smell of it, and so it was triple wrapped.

As usual, with his trips to Scotland, he was staying over the night at his country place near Keswick. Which meant a rather pleasant evening being spent with DI Diana Webster!

He stopped in at Booth’s to pick up supplies for their meal: a couple of juicy steaks, some prawns, asparagus spears and a nice bottle of wine. He was in an excellent mood as he made his way to Derwent Water and the little stone cottage he kept there. He enjoyed “roughing” it in the country. Back in Manchester he had an enormous house with all the high-end gadgetry you would expect; but here he could relax and take things a lot slower.

He started preparing the meal, he was expecting Diana in about a half hour, by putting together a garlic sauce in which he would fry the prawns and a rub for the steaks. He was just snapping off the ends of the asparagus when his doorbell rang.

Wiping his hands on the tea towel, he made his way to the door. He pulled it wide to find Diana on the threshold, brandishing a bottle of red wine.

“Ah! Welcome Detective Inspector,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture for her to enter. “A nice red to go with our steaks, excellent.”

Diana looked around, “We were in such a hurry last time I was here, that I didn’t get much chance to look around the place.”

“Please poke around, check it all out. I will just be in here,” he pointed to the kitchen, “starting on the food.”

Diana started to browse around the sitting room, when she was drawn to a small curio cabinet in the corner of the room. John was listening to her murmuring over the objects when he heard her say, “ **Ohhh, this is different…** ”

John stuck his head outside the kitchen to see her holding up a leather thong necklace with a leather pouch. The outside of the pouch was lined with fur and on it were tassels of leather threaded through beads. He made his way over to her and took it from her hand. “It is an Algonquin medicine pouch.”

“Really? Like from American Indians?”

“Canadian Indians. They are from the area surrounding Ottawa. My grandfather spent a few years there as a logger in the early part of the 20th century.” He gestured with the medicine pouch, “They are an interesting people.”

“No doubt…foreign and exotic.”

John shrugged, “I don’t know about exotic. Gramp said they were a lot like everybody else, just trying to support their families. He had a great respect for them.”

John went back to cooking the meal, while Diana explored some more. She made her way upstairs and peeked into the master bedroom; that room she was familiar with. The smaller bedroom on the other side of the landing was decorated in a very feminine style; full of soft pinks and purples, with a lace bedcover and floral wallpaper.

She made her way back downstairs just as John was setting the food on the table. He smiled and pulled out her chair, “Mademoiselle,” he bowed.

Diana chuckled and replied in broken French, “Merci beau-coupe.”

They enjoyed their meal, chatting about the state of world politics and crime in the area. Diana was heading a unit that was investigating an increase in trafficking going through Keswick; John was well aware of her team, when he had met her previously it was part of what attracted her to him. He enjoyed walking the knife edge; sticking it to those who had never struggled, who didn’t know what it was like to scrimp and scratch out a living.

After dinner, Diana took a seat on the sofa while John built up the fire. John took his seat at the opposite end of the sofa, he was in a chatty mood and maintained a steady stream of factoids and prattle. Diana allowed him to talk for a while before she became bored.

She held up her hand and sighed, “John, **are you going to talk the entire time?** ”

John hadn’t realized how much he had been talking, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hog the conversa-“

Before he could finish his sentence she cut him off, “Do **you know why I stopped you?** ”

John grimaced and shook his head no.

Diana scooted to John’s end of the couch and ran a finger from his shoulder to his hand, “Because I have better things I’d like to do…” Her eyes were dark, while her fingers continued to play up and down his arm. She positioned herself along his body and started to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

John grinned and ran his left hand through her thick hair. “I can imagine what you want to do.” His hand continued down her neck, along her clavicle and down across the curve of her breast. Diana breathed deeply as his fingers ghosted across her nipple, the delicious friction of her clothing resulting in a shiver coursing through her.

“Ummm, yes, just like that, John.”

John leaned into her and inhaled her smell of jasmine, his tongue came out and barely followed her jawline. He kissed beside her mouth while she whined before he took her mouth with his. He deepened the kiss, pressing her into the back of the sofa. Diana’s arms came ‘round him, scrabbling at his shirttails. She pulled them out and plunged her hands into his jeans, kneading his ass.

“Oh fuck!” he moaned into her mouth. He hissed and pushed her away as she tried to put her finger in his anus. He quickly jumped up and away from her.

Diana pouted, “What is it, lover? It’s just a little butt play. It’s fun!”

“Fun? No, I don’t think so.”

“We did it last time.”

“Uhhh, no. **Cause I** won’t **let you** do that!”

Diana paused and thought for a moment, “Hmmm, maybe it wasn’t you.” She rose from the couch and made her way over to John. She reached out a hand and put it on his chest. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” she moved in closer, “but you don’t know what you are missing.”

John curled his lip, “There is a line I don’t cross, and that is it!” He took her by the elbow and propelled her across the room. “I can’t believe you are into that shit!” he shivered in disgust.

At the door she turned to him, “What if I come back later and we forget this ever happened?”

John shook his head, “ **No, it’s still you** ,” John’s stomach was turning. It was an act he could not fathom and he was feeling dirty knowing that he had slept with her.

Diana stood on the front porch, confused. “Seriously? You’re going to put me out because I touched your asshole?”

John nodded and smirked at her, “Yes. Yes, I am. That is exactly why.”  Ever so gently he closed the door. Danger and exhilaration were fun and all, but he had standards that he was not willing to give up for a little action with the enemy.


	10. Chapter 10

_Day 10 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 1094_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: Feels_

**We all have that other side of us, we show only to a few selected people in our lives, the ones we absolutely trust and we can be completely ourselves with. So, what happens when your character shows that side of themselves that very few people have the privilege to see?**

John Mulligan was a quiet man, in his early 40’s, he was intellectual and astute. He had not excelled at secondary school, he hadn’t even earned any A levels; he was street smart and bookish. He didn’t have many friends, and only a few business associates that he trusted.

Growing up poor in Manchester meant that he had not had many opportunities. Despite that, he and his sister Tracy had made their way in the world. They had a stake in a bus line, Tracy’s school sweetheart and husband of ten years Derek was the other piece of the three-way pie. The business would have given them a comfortable existence, but John wanted more. He wanted the peace of mind that only money could give him.

His “other” business had started when he was still in school. It was a solid opportunity for him to have a steady source of clientele; pot was never a hard sell.  Originally, he dealt for another man. Christof had been in the game for a long while, having started in Europe, he had sources all over the world. John thrived under the tutorship of Christof; learning all about the processing and selling of drugs.

John, however, was a man of great scruples. It may sound like an odd quality in a man who operated outside the law, but he was honourable. He treated his workers, dealers and network well. He never cut dangerous ingredients into his product and he didn’t gouge his clients.

When Christof passed, John smoothly transitioned into a kingpin. The bus line was an excellent front and laundered the money well. He had not a care in the world. Or, he surmised, he should have not a care in the world.

John was lonely. He had a mansion in Stockport, a lovely cottage in the Lake District, cars, clothes…but something was missing. In secondary school he had been the big man on campus. He had his pick of the girls. Over the past twenty years or so he had dated, but he had yet to meet someone who he trusted, completely.

On this day he and Tracy were lounging by the pool, keeping an eye on her two children, ages 8 and 10, as they frolicked in the pool.

He took a sip of his lemonade, sighed and said, “You know Trace, I envy you.”

Tracy gave him a sidelong glance, “What?” she snorted. “You, mister big-shot, has it all?”

John felt her response deep in his gut. He had always been able to talk to her about anything. Only a year and a half separated them, they had always been very close.

He frowned.

Tracy sat up on her lounger, swung her legs over the side and exclaimed, “You’re serious!”

He nodded, “Yeah, I am.” He looked down at his big hand curling around his glass, he was aware of the sensation of the condensation, his hand was wet with it. “I’m lonely.”

“But you are never alone, John! You’ve always got some bird on the side.”

“That’s just it, Tracy. She is always on the side.” He shook his head, “You’ve had Derek.” His eyebrows drew together, “Twenty years, you’ve had him.”

Tracy grinned, “Yeah, he’s a good bloke.”

John snorted again, “Yep! Salt of the earth.” John followed the movements of his sister, their knees mere millimeters apart. He placed his hand on hers. “Since Mum died, I have felt…adrift…”

Tracy swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. Theresa Mulligan had done all she could to raise her children well. Mr. Mulligan had left, gone in the night, when Tracy was just three years old, so she had worked two jobs to ensure the family had what it needed. They had always struggled and, sometimes, it had not been enough; but John and Tracy were fiercely proud of all that she had done for them.

“I understand John; I’ve felt it too-“

“You have Derek and the kids…” John hung his head. “I have nothing.” He held his arms wide, “I’ve got this, I’ve got the business…some days it is too much, but most days it is nothing.”

“I’m not going to serve you platitudes, John.” She ducked her head, attempting to make eye contact. When he didn’t look at her, she reached for his chin and tugged it up gently, “I don’t know if you will ever meet someone worthwhile. I don’t even know if you would know what to _do_ with someone worthwhile,” she chuckled, “but sittin’ around here is not going to get you that.”

John snickered, “You know? I thought I had found someone…” he looked at her, a cockeyed grin on his face, “a Detective Inspector…” Tracy howled with laughter, “…but she turned out to be a freak.”

“A freak?”

He leaned in closer and whispered, “She tried to stick her finger up my ass!”

Tracy shrieked, “You old prude!” She threw herself back onto the lounger, laughing in glee. She giggled to a halt and looked at him, shocked. “You’re serious! Jesus John!” She gave him a sexy look, “It can be rather…orgasmic.”

“Tracy!” he sputtered. “Wh-wh-oh gross!”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

John shivered in revulsion.

Tracy resumed her sitting position and shuffled closer to her brother, “John. Love. You deserve all the love in the world. Why don’t you just relax about it and see what happens? Go for a better quality of woman, and ditch the one night stands.” She thought for a moment and perked up, “Maybe I should get you to take the children to school; there are lots of pretty, smart women there.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Nope! It’s decided.” She stood up and went to the side of the pool. “Hey guys!” The boys halted their rough-housing and turned to her. “How would you like Uncle Johnnie to take you to school?” It was just at that moment that Tracy realised the irony of her children _not_ taking a bus to school; she chuckled.

Both boys shouted, “Yes!” “That would be awesome!”

They clamoured out of the pool and trotted, soaking wet, to their uncle. They threw themselves onto the lounger, and proceeded to hang off of him. “Will you Uncle Johnnie? Please?”

John took each into a head lock and kissed the top of their heads. He gave his sister a death stare, and smirked. “Yes, okay. I will take you hellions to school.”

The boys ran off, high karate-ing each other and shouting.

John lay back on the lounger and sighed, “Thank god it is still July.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Day 11 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 1505_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: None_

John sat at the bar looking gloomily into his beer mug. He was thinking about what Tracy had said about giving up the one night stands. ‘Course the woman he found would have to be either a total dingbat or as unscrupulous as he.

“No…no dingbats,” he mumbled to himself.

“Excuse me?” the woman beside him smirked. “Did you just call me a dingbat?”

John looked to his right and tried to focus. He liked what he saw, although considering just how drunk he was, he could be mistaken. “Hey,” he drawled. “John Mulligan.”

“Hello John Mulligan. How have you been?”

‘How have I been?’ John focused harder on the woman. ‘Do I know her?’  “Do I know you?”

“You used to.”

‘Dammit, gimme a hint,’ he thought.

She reached over and took his beer by the handle, “How many of these have you had?”

He crinkled his nose, “Dunno…6 or 7?”

She signaled for the bartender. “Hey, can I get a coffee: black for this guy and I’ll have a Pimm’s.”

“I don’t want no coffee.”

“John, you’ve known me since we were children and you don’t even recognise me.” She chuckled, “You are officially cut off!”

The bartender returned with their drinks, the woman finished off John’s beer – “Hey, whatrya doin’?” – and pushed the coffee closer to him. “Drink the coffee.”

He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced, “This is shit!”

“It’s coffee at a bar, what do you expect? Cappuccino?”

John scowled.  “Alright, so who are yo-“, suddenly he pointed his finger in her face. She leaned back, away from it. “Yer Tommy Dylan’s sister!”

“Ding, ding, ding! Give the man a prize!”

“I’ll take a beer!” he responded.

“Drink your damn coffee.”

“Desiree? Right?”

She shook her head, “No,” she sighed, “the quiet one.” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember her name. “Abbie.”

He pointed at her again, “Right! Abigail!” He swayed slightly on the barstool, “How the hell are ya? Where have ya been?”

“Getting away from my degenerate siblings.”

John cocked his head, confused.

She smiled and shook her head, “I’ve been living in New York. Practising law.” Abbie regarded the man, “What are you doing with your life, John?”

John stared into his cup, “Wasting it, apparently.”

She eyed him up and down. Expensive jeans, a tailored shirt, Italian leather shoes…the man did not appear to be wasting his life. “I dunno John, you look like you are doing okay to me.”

“Bah!” He batted his hand around. “Sure, I got money, nice house, business…” he spun on the stool and faced the woman. “Abbie?” He leaned closer, “I’m missing out on something.”

Abbie looked into his blue eyes, she had almost forgotten how blue they were, and saw pain and sadness lingering there. He had, obviously, run his hands through his hair quite a bit, it stuck up here and there in a roguish manner.

She put a hand on his knee. He looked down at it. It felt good, warm and enticing. She had long fingers, with a single gold band on her right ring finger and a dainty chain around her wrist. He regarded her hand and made his way up her arm, he cocked his tell-tale smirk; she was quite beautiful. Not traditionally, her mouth was a tad too full, her nose a bit too wide; but her eyes! Her brows framed them perfectly, the dark of her lashes made the grey of her eyes stand out. He could probably see them glowing in a dark room.

“C’mon John.” She took him by the crook of his arm. “Why don’t we get a table?”

He grabbed his coffee cup, saw it was empty and signaled the bartender for another. “You need a refresher?” he asked Abbie.

“No, thank you. One is good for me.”

She led them to a booth and slid in. John tried to slide in after her and crashed into her left arm. “Whoa!” he giggled. “Sorry there!” He had one hand on her shoulder and the other on her upper thigh. He blushed, but was surprised when he looked up and saw her nostrils flare as she breathed deeply.

“No worries. It’s all okay.”

John hiccoughed and thanked the waitress when she brought his coffee.

“Tell me, John. What‘s going on?”

He put his head on the table and mumbled, “Are you married?”

Abbie looked around the room, avoiding his gaze. “I was…” she looked at the band on her finger. “He died.”

“Have you dated a lot?”

“What do you think, John? Think back, did I then?”

John was sobering up. Unfortunately, he was still feeling maudlin. “I guess not, but I’m sure you have some in the background.”

“A few, yes. More often than not, they said no when I’d ask.” She shrugged, “I dunno, I guess I just wasn’t dating material…too quiet, shy, I was more comfortable hanging out with the guys. Too much for men, I guess.”

**“But you cherish your rejections, they give you texture, they give you personality,”** John still had his forehead pressed to the table top; he was rolling his head back and forth.

**“What are you babbling about?”**

**“Let me educate you, this is what I have noticed over the years…”** he sat up and leaned in close to her, tapping his finger on the melamine.

**“Oh, I gotta hear this,”** Abbie leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest.

**“You take each one and you label it, you label each issue, each past grievance in its own Mason jar and you put it into your sack of emotional baggage. And you throw that baggage over your shoulder and what do you do, girl?”**

**“What?”**

**“You then walk it into the new relationship. And the messed up part of it is, the new boyfriend…doesn´t have a clue…what you´re hauling with you…”**

**“That´s not me!”**

“Pffffb!”

“Very mature there, John.” She tapped his arm, “Let me tell you something. I went through shit as a teenager. Nobody saw me. I was a phantom. Everyone was obsessed with Tommy and Desiree. You know why?”

“They were cool?”

“Fuck off, John Mulligan. They weren’t cool. You weren’t cool, either.”

John looked affronted.

“Sure, sure, you dated the cheerleaders, the Brainiac…what was her name?”

“Ellie.”

“Last I heard she was working at a bank. As a clerk!” Abbie crowed. “And do you know where Tommy and Desiree are?”

John shook his head sheepishly.

“Tommy is in prison; doing 15 to 20 for armed robbery and battery.” Abbie had a blank expression, “And Desiree is dead.”

“I knew about Tommy, or at least, that’s what I thought I heard. But I didn’t know about Desiree.” He placed a comforting hand on her arm, “I’m sorry to hear it.”

Abbie snorted. “I’m not. Stupid drug addled idiot!” Abbie leaned back into her seat and sighed. “Look, there is something going on with you John.”

“I’m lonely,” he confided.

“Let me guess…a different girl most nights, no real commitments? Am I right?” She raised her brows questioningly. “Maybe quite fucking around and settle down.”

“You sound like Tracy.”

“She always was a smart cookie.”

John turned to Abbie, raising his knee onto the settee. “I can’t.” He took a deep breath, “Can I tell you something?” She nodded. “Seriously, this has to stay…” he wagged his finger between them, “…between us!”

“I’m a barrister, John. I’ll treat it like client confidentiality.”

“Wait! Did you tell me that?”

Abbie grinned and nodded, “Remember? New York. Practised law?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you, then.” He turned back to the table.

“I swear, it will between you, me and this table.”

“Tracy, her husband Derek-“

“Oh! She married Derek?” John nodded. “Awww, that is so sweet!” John peered at her. “Oh, sorry…continue.”

“Well, we three operate a bus service. School buses.”

“Annnnd…”

“It’s a front.” Abbie surveyed his face. John whispered, “I’m a dealer.”

“You mean like you were in secondary?”

John considered her question, “Well, yeah.”

“Did you take over for Christof when he died?”

John was taken aback! “You knew Christof?”

Abbie shrugged, “Who was my brother?” Abbie opened her bag and removed a small, thin metal case. She opened it and removed a card, placing it face up in front of him.

He picked it up and read,

Abigail Deseronto

Solicitor

XYZ Building Spinningfields

Manchester

0161 496 0551

 

Abbie skootched him out of the booth. She stood beside him, he was considerably taller than she, and gave him a soft smile. “Go easy John. Things tend to work out.” She tapped the card still in his hand, “Call me if you need me.”

John watched her leave the bar.

Suddenly sober he noticed her figure, wider than average shoulders to a tapered waist and the flare of hips encased in a dress that crisscrossed at the back, exposing a tattoo of 3 bees around a hive. Her legs were long and shapely, sexy in 3 inch stilettos.

He sat hard on the settee and smiled.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

_Day 12 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 1399_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: None_

 

The cutting room was a bustle of activity; it was always extra frenetic when a new shipment came in. Jeremy was supervising the packers as they went about their work. He glanced over to the small room in which John counted the daily haul. Standing outside of the room was a tall, hulking man with the tell-tale side bulge of a holster clearly visible.

From the corner of his eye he saw a puff of white powder explode. “ **Oi lads! What are you doing**?” he shouted, as he hurried over to the cutting table.

“Sorry Jeremy!” Peter sniffed. Despite wearing masks, sneezes still played havoc with the merchandise. Peter turned his head and sneezed again into his elbow.

Jeremy looked balefully at the man. “Please don’t sneeze into the product.”

Peter had the good sense to look contrite. “Sorry, it snuck up on me.”

John exited the counting room, the big man on his heels, with two rucksacks full of cash. He halted in front of Jeremy and handed him one of the sacs, pay for the packers. “I’m off,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right John,” Jeremy responded. “We should be done here soon.”

Before John made it to the stairs one of the packers approached him. “Pardon me boss, but can I have a moment?”

It was not usual for John to have direct conversations with the packers, he left them to Jeremy to manage, but he halted and turned to him with a questioning lift of his eyebrow.

“I was wonderin’ if you might be looking for some new dealers.”

“You looking to change your job description?” he asked, with a grin.

“No, no…packing is good for me; I ain’t got the smarts for dealing, but me sister is looking to make some extra cash…an’ I told her I’d talk with you about it.”

Now John was not the kind of man to look down his nose at another, but he tried to keep the business roles clearly defined. He whistled to Jeremy and asked, “ **Why am I having this conversation?** ”

Jeremy had not heard the conversation. As he ambled over he asked, “What’s up, John?”

John put a hand on the packers shoulder, gave him a pat and explained, “Tell you what; tell Jeremy what you just told me and he will arrange for me to meet with your sister, hmm?”

“Oh! Right,” the man babbled. “Sorry to disturb you, boss.”

“No, it’s not a problem…just talk to Jeremy.”

Jeremy touched his fingers to his forelock in salute and hitched his head at the man so that he would follow him.

John made his way to his office overlooking the warehouse space that housed the buses. He crossed to the safe that was bolted to the floor, opened it and tossed the second rucksack inside. Once he had closed it and spun the tumbler he stood and shook the big man’s hand.

“Thanks Dimitri! Appreciate it.”

Dimitri smirked and shook his head, “I don’t know why you pay me to do that. Everyone here adores you; do you honestly think anything bad would happen from down there to up here?”

“It happened once and that was enough for me.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

John gave him an envelope of cash, shook his hand again and bid him goodbye.

***

Later that evening, John had an appointment with his new solicitor. He had been surprised to meet up again with Abbie, a reminder of his youth.

He drove to her office in the Spinningfields development, a swanky office tower in the centre of Manchester. He approached the security desk and gave the agent his name. As he waited for the security officer to contact Abbie he looked around.

The lobby was simple, pressed concrete with tall ceilings and a promenade ranging from one end to the other.  The security desk and pass-operated turnstiles separated the lifts from the rest of the lobby. The security officer had John sign in and presented him with a visitor pass.

The lift smoothly carried him to the fifth floor. He exited and turned to the right, following the corridor to an office on the northwest corner with a view of the river Irwell. He entered, finding a compact reception area; Abbie was crossing the room.

“John! I’m so glad you called,” she held out her hand. “Sorry we had to meet this late, I only just got back from some business in Newcastle.”

John took her hand and leaned in to kiss her cheek. He smirked as she reddened. “Not a problem. It’s great to see you again.”

She led him into her office. He glanced around to find it decorated in a minimal manner. Her desk was a solid piece of rough-edged oak, with iron X-framed legs. In front of it stood two leather covered wood-frame arm chairs.

As she rounded her desk she asked him to take a seat. “How can I help you, John?” She picked up a pen and rolled it in fingers.

John was fascinated by her long fingers playing with the writing instrument; he pondered her for a moment before answering, “I’d like to put you on retainer.” He stretched his long legs out in front of himself and relaxed back into the chair.

“Really John?” she asked drolly. “Why in the world would you need a defense attorney on retainer?”

 John chuckled, “I think you know very well why…”

She regarded him pointedly. “I am a well-respected solicitor. Why would I go out on a limb to represent someone I know is a drug dealer?” She tapped the pen on her desk blotter. “If I did take you on, I would demand an annual £30,000 retainer.”

John sat upright, “ **Run that by me again**.”

Abbie grinned, “£30,000.”

“That’s what I thought you said!” John snapped.

She shrugged and smirked “It’s a big risk for me. I need to make it worthwhile.” She chuckled, “My solicitor will probably demand a larger retainer!”

“ **That’s not an argument**. I don’t see why I should be subsidizing your solicitor.”

Abbie rose from her desk and crossed to the door. She opened it and stood regarding John. “I hope you find a solicitor that will satisfy.”

John swiveled in the chair, giving her a level gaze. “I want you to represent me.”

“Those are my terms, John. Take them or leave them.”

John turned back toward her desk, “I’ll take them.”

Abbie sat and started questioning him, “I need to know everything. The front, the laundering process...” She pulled a contract and a copy of it from her drawer, handing the copy to John. He raised his brows in surprise. “I knew what you were after when you called, John.” She drew his attention to the details, “I need to know how many cutters you have, how many dealers, any protection you have,” she paused and leaned back in her chair. “Are Tracy and Derek involved in this business?”

“No. They know what goes on and that the buses are the front, but they don’t have anything to do with dealing.”

Abbie was surprised. It was a huge risk for the couple. She didn’t think John would have put his sister at risk like that.

She rubbed her face. “Okay, do the police know about you? Have you had any convictions?”

John nodded, “No convictions, but I’m pretty sure they know about me. I use Dimitri Van Housen as my security.”

“Dimitri?” Abbie laughed. “I haven’t seen him since he was about 12 years old. He must be huge by now!” She leaned back and shook her head. “Remember how he used to prank everyone? Shit! He managed to convince Tommy that you put the smoke bomb in his school locker!”

“ **I don’t know how he did that one** ,” John chuckled. “I had forgotten about that. I’d retaliate, but **he’s big and fast** so I will let it go.”

Abbie looked him up and down appreciatively. She had always had a soft spot for him and he had grown into a very handsome man. “Probably for the best. Although, you are a pretty big man yourself.” John shook his head and raised his hands six inches over his head and two inches either side of his shoulders. Abbie’s eyes widened and she whistled. “Well, we want to keep your pretty face pretty, so…yeah, maybe let it go.”


	13. Chapter 13

_Day 13 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 528_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning: None_

 

Tracy Mulligan-Woodfield was standing at her brother’s kitchen island, exasperated. John, once again, was not listening to her advice.

“Just ask her out!”

“Trace, I can’t ask her out, she is my solicitor.”

“And?”

John shook his head, he couldn’t understand why Tracy was having trouble wrapping her brain around the concept of client/lawyer privilege. “It is a conflict of interest, Tracy,” he chided. “I am her client, she is my employee, so to speak. It doesn’t work that way.”

Tracy rolled her eyes.

Her husband Derek entered the kitchen and hesitated as she bleated, “Would you talk to this moron?”

“Uhhh,” he turned to John, “What’s up?”

“Your _wife_ , keeps insisting that I should ask Abbie out!”

“And?”

“Are you both crazy people?” Derek shrugged. “She is my solicitor!”

“But you like her!” Tracy exclaimed as she grabbed his arm. “What difference does it make?”

John threw his arms up in the air and stormed from the kitchen through to the family room.

“So, what are you going to do?” Derek asked.

“Well, I know Abbie…I’m sure I could talk to her…”

“ **You do realise I can hear everything you say** , right?” John bellowed.

“Pfffbt!” Tracy and Derek both stuck their tongues out at John.

“Leave it,” he pleaded.

Tracy smirked at Derek, winked and whispered, “Yeah, leave it to me.”

***

An hour later Tracy’s phone rang. She answered, cheerily, “Abbie! Thank you so much for calling me back.”

“It’s been a long time, Tracy. What can I do for you?”

“Actually Abbie,” she made sure to enunciate Abbie’s name. “It’s what I’d like to do for you!”

 “ **I'm standing right here! I can hear every single word, you idiot,** ” John planted his feet in the doorway and glared at his sister. She waved, waggling her fingers at him.

“Really Tracy, and what do you want to do for me?”

“I’d like to set you up with my brother.”

Abbie hesitated before answering. She was surprised to hear from Tracy, but not altogether displeased. Seeing John again had re-awakened something she thought had died with her husband. All of the teenage feelings she had had for John came tumbling back.

“I don’t know about the ethics of doing that, Tracy. I _am_ his solicitor.”

“I remember what you thought of him then,” Tracy confided. “He’s lonely, he needs a good woman in his life…I think that could be you.”

John’s foot started tapping on the tile floor as his hands went to his waist, “ **Still here…** ”

Abbie chuckled. “I can hear him. **Do me a favour, would you? Smack him on the back of his head**.”

Tracy crossed over and smacked him, as requested.

“What the fuck was that for?”

Tracy looked innocent, “I’m just doing what the lady asked me to do.”

“What the actual fuck is going on around here? Has everyone lost their senses?”

“ **Thank you** , but did he just ask if I had lost my senses?”

“Uh-huh,” Tracy confirmed.

“In that case, tell me where and when.”

Tracy smirked at John, a surprisingly identical smirk to his own, and went through the back door into the garden. John watched her go, flabbergasted.


	14. Chapter 14

_Day 14 of the 14 day writing challenge by deepestfirefun_

_Word count: 3651_

_Character: John Mulligan_

_Warning:  Fluff, smut_

 

 

 

John was not sure how he had been convinced to do this. It went against every instinct in his body. He had argued til he was blue in the face; nothing had deterred his sister. She was like a badger with her prey; there was no way she was going to let go of the notion once it was in her head.

So, here he was. Tucked away in a quiet corner of Manchester House waiting for Abbie. He didn’t have to wait long, the restaurants location in Spinningfields meant that she could join him directly after work. He watched her appreciatively as she crossed the quietly humming space. She was dressed in a snug blazer and pencil skirt, deliciously accentuating her curvy figure. Her light brown wavy hair, worn loose slung over one shoulder, bounced with each step she took. Once again, she sported 3 inch stilettos.

John could feel the crotch of his pants growing snug.

He stood as she approached and took both of her hands in his. He leaned in and kissed each of her cheeks. “Abbie, so good to see you again.”

“And you, John,” she grinned. “Does Tracy always get her way?”

John shrugged and grinned, “Mum and Tracy…I never could say no for long.”

Abbie reached across for his hand, “I was very sorry to hear about your Mum. She took great care of all of us neighbourhood kids.”

John nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, she is missed.”

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their memories of Theresa and the kind of woman she had been.

After a few moments Abbie confessed, “You know John, I was glad to hear from Tracy.” She held up her hand as John was about to speak. “Let me continue. I know you have some kind of problem with me being your solicitor, but I _am_ only on retainer.”

“You don’t have a problem with what I do for a living?”

“What? Being a bus operator?” They both laughed. “Honestly, I’m a criminal lawyer and, while I started because I believe everyone has a right to a good defense, I have been around long enough to know my way around crime…of all kinds.” She considered him for a moment; he was looking at her intently. As if she was the only person in the room, other than she and he, there was no sound, no people, nothing.  “I’ve advised mob bosses, murderers,” she nodded at him, “drug dealers…I’m not as sweet and innocent as I used to be, John.”

***

6 months later

John exited his office, Abbie in tow. He was proudly showing her around the businesses. “Now I am going to take you to the cutting room.” He was as excited as a small puppy.

They had decided to take their relationship slowly. The past 6 months had been a wholly new experience for John. While he had dated in the past, none of his relationships had gone beyond a few months. He was growing more and more in love with Abbie each day that passed; he felt himself changing, becoming more open and trusting.

Abbie laughed as she was pulled along by John, “Slow down, love. It isn’t going anywhere!”

He stopped on top of the trapdoor and stood looking at her with anticipation. Abbie looked around, confused and then at John curiously. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, then pointed downward.

Abbie clapped her hands, “Ohhh, a trapdoor! **You really are something, you know that**?”

John pulled up the trapdoor and led her down the stairs. The space was not cavernous, only about 100 x 50 feet, with a bathroom and John’s small counting room, but there was plenty of room for the cutters to work and Jeremy to supervise.

John crossed to his right hand man, and introduced him to Abbie. “Jeremy, this is Abbie.”

Jeremy held out his hand to shake hers, but Abbie was having none of that. She reached up and clasped her arms around his neck, saying, “I have heard so much about you!”

Jeremy stiffened before hesitatingly hugging her back, “ **Okay, so you’re a hugger**!”

Abbie stepped back, grimaced and said, “Sorry. John has just been so anxious for me to meet you…” she shrugged.

John walked her through the process, taking care to introduce her to everyone, with pride. “As you see here, we have very strict rules about cross contamination. You really don’t want to mix your Sativa’s and Indica’s, let alone all the different flavours!”

“Is there ever a time when you would mix them?”

“Yes, but it really depends on what your goals are, if you are just interested in getting a buzz on, you are best to stay with a Sativa. And then there are things to consider like how experienced you are…you wouldn’t want your first time to be with say, something with a super high THC content.”

Abbie was impressed. She knew that Christof would have passed on his in-depth knowledge but she wasn’t aware that there was so much involved. “I never knew how much went into _weed_! Who would actually believe that it is this complicated?”

“I’m proud of what I have accomplished. Now that pot isn’t such a taboo I am freer to be proud of it. I think once it becomes legal, I will be in a good position to transition.”

***

6 months later

It was exactly 1 year ago that John was sitting in this spot. He sat, reflecting on the changes that happened over that time. Tracy had a whole other human being to care for, John’s business had grown so much that his basement operation space was becoming quite tight and he and Abbie were flourishing.

He was anxious to see her. For the past 6 weeks she had been spending her weekdays in London, working on a high-profile murder case. Even her time at home had been occupied, she still had local clients to care for. While he was not happy with her work schedule he felt so proud of everything she had accomplished that he could not begrudge her the opportunities she had.

When he saw her making her way to him, his mind flashed back a year, to her in a blazer and pencil skirt, fresh from the office. Tonight she was dressed in a bright red, low plunging confection of flowing silk; her hair was rolled into a chignon and the ubiquitous 3 inch stilettos were on her feet.

He rose and greeted her, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. He tucked his face into her neck and moaned, “Fuck I’ve missed you.”

Abbie leaned back, took his face in her hands, kissed his lips lightly and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

John held out her chair and made sure that she was comfortable. “How is the case going?”

“Tsk, tsk; you know I can’t give you any details.”

“Who asked for details? I just want to know when the fuck you are going to be home for good!!”

Abbie laughed, “I don’t think it will be too much longer, love. Maybe 2 or 3 weeks?”

“Good!” He leaned across the table, waggling his finger for her to meet him halfway, he whispered, “My cock misses you…”

She kissed him and replied, “And I miss him.”

They enjoyed a quiet meal. They had the kind of rapport where they did not need to talk. They were both happy to just be together in companionable silence. Once they finished their meal, they lingered over dessert and coffee.

John reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. Without any fuss he slid the ring box across the table to her. A chill ran through her body. She had been married before, she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to do it again.

“Marry me.” He didn’t ask, he didn’t want to give her an option. He was so completely, utterly in love with this woman that he was unsure of his future without her. On occasion he was still overwhelmed by how much she had come to mean to him. He was surprised that only a year ago he saw no life with a woman, that he had become imbrued by the idea that he would be alone forever.

Abbie could feel her stomach falling, her hands were shaky and a film of perspiration was forming at the back of her neck. “I-“

“ **You’re holding back** ,” John reached for the box when Abbie’s hand fell on top of his.

“No John. I promise that I will never hold back on you.” Abbie looked at him tenderly, “I love you but, maybe…just **maybe I am a little scared**.”

John turned his hand over and laced his fingers in hers. “You never need to be afraid. I will never, ever let anything bad happen to you!”

Abbie smiled sadly, “Really? Think about what you do. Think about what I do. Both are very, very good reasons to be afraid.”

John stood and rounded the table to stand by her chair. He took her hand and pulled her into an embrace. Directly into her ear he breathed, “You and me, together, can accomplish anything. Our jobs may be, to a certain extent, dangerous but _we_ are bound to each other. We will overcome everything together.”

He reached down and picked up the box. He put his forehead to hers and opened it. Nestled in the velvet was a round cut emerald set in a platinum band with diamond accents. He didn’t look at her, he simply removed the ring, took her left hand and slipped it on.

“I love you Abigail. I promise to cherish you forever.” John slipped his hands to the nape of her neck and titled her face to his. Before claiming her lips in a feverish kiss he stared into her eyes; the depth of his blue shone with adoration.

***

 6 months later

John and Abbie, clad in a suit and a short cream coloured dress, respectively, stood on the steps of Manchester Town Hall posing for pictures. Tracy insisted that they were necessary; a wedding, no matter how low-key, needed to have photos. 

Derek stood off to the side trying to wrangle his 3 children. “Can we get the show on the road? We’ve got some hungry youngsters over here!”

“See Trace? Now enough with the pictures, I didn’t eat much this morning and I am probably as starving as those children!”

Abbie looked concerned, “You didn’t eat?”

“I tried to but I was too nervous.”

“Awww, my poor honey,” she cooed. She leaned into his side and tilted her face up. John indulged her, yet again, with a kiss.

He growled, “I’m hungry.”

Abbie put her arm through his and continued down the steps. The family walked to a nearby restaurant for the wedding lunch. It was a relaxed affair, the newlyweds having chosen it in order to accommodate the children. There was much joy and laughter from the seven, especially Tracy’s 2 eldest, who teased Uncle Johnnie and Abbie mercilessly.

John looked upon his nephews indulgently. Suddenly he sat up straight and exclaimed, “Holy shit!”

“John! Your language,” Abbie chided.

Tracy snorted, “These kids have heard much worse from him.”

Derek chuckled at John, “What kind of lightbulb just went off?”

“I’m a married man!” His companions laughed and he continued, “That means children and-“

“Whoa! Whoa!” Abbie declared. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I need a bit of time to adjust to,” she waved her hand around, encompassing the family, “all of this!”

Once the meal was over the family separated, much to the chagrin of Tracy, who wanted to continue celebrating.

Derek pulled her aside, “Woman! Would you please let them go off and consummate that marriage?”

“Oh!” she blushed. “Of course.” She turned her attention to John and Abbie and shooed them off, “Alright, be off with you two. Go on,” she corralled her children and turned her little family away from the newlyweds. “You go do…whatever.”

Abbie laughed while John turned red. She waved goodbye to the retreating Woodfields and made her way to John’s Range Rover.

They made their way home in silence, Abbie watched her husband as he concentrated on driving; she smiled shyly when he cast glances in her direction.

Instead of parking in the garage, John pulled up to the front door. He indicated to Abbie to remain in the car and trotted to the front door. He entered the code into the digital doorknob and swung the door open. He then returned to the car, opened the door and scooped his wife into his arms.

She whooped in surprise as he lifted her out, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “John!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you dare drop me!”

“Not a chance, my darling,” he crowed.

He swept her in through the door and set her gently on her feet in the entrance hall. Keeping her arms around his neck, she reached up and pressed her lips to his. John kicked the door shut. Not breaking their kiss they made their way up the stairs.

Abbie was working on John’s shirt buttons while he was pulling pins from her hair. He plunged his hands into her thick strands; he wanted to inhale her, to prove with his tongue and teeth and lips how much he loved her.

She worked his jacket off of his shoulders and went to work on his cufflinks. She broke the kiss and bit her lower lip. Taking a deep breath she, reverently, touched his chest; with the tips of her fingers she brushed across his nipple. His resulting growl set her aflame.

She turned from him and held up her hair. “Unzip me,” she purred.

John pulled on the zipper; slowly he undid her, kissing her spine inch by revealed inch. He unclipped her bra and pushed the bodice of the dress from her. He put his hands to her waist and slid them around to her front. As he kneaded the flesh of her belly his lips and tongue burned a swath across the nape of her neck.

She melted against him, swaying softly as his hands ascended her body. He caressed the underside of her breasts before she groaned, “Touch me. Please John, touch me.”

His teeth nibbled on her earlobe as his hands cupped her tits, his thumbs trailing heat around her aureoles. Her nipples pebbled and stood out, peaked.

John pushed down the rest of her dress, following its descent to the ground. He lifted one foot and then the other, removing her shoes. Nothing was left except the scrap of lace covering her paradise.

“John,” she pleaded. “Come back…”

“ **See, this is what happens when you distract me,** ” he chuckled.

He turned her back toward him when her eyes went wide. “How are you still dressed?”

“I fear I have bewitched you my darling.”

“We need to get these fucking clothes off – NOW!”

John stood still while she went to work removing his suit. Soon they were both facing each other clad in only their underwear. John’s boxer-briefs left nothing to her imagination. His cock was at full attention, nicely peeking up through the elastic waistband. “Oh, hello!” she giggled.

“Hello, indeed,” he croaked, pulling her to him.

His mouth devoured her, his tongue lapping against hers, twirling and caressing the sensitive tissue of her mouth. She leaned in closer, wrapping a leg around his thighs, leaving just a whispers breadth between them.

John walked her backward to the bed and laid her down on top of it. He kissed his way to her neck, her collarbone. He lavished attention on each breast and continued down her belly, his tongue dipping into her navel. Her hips were bucking frenetically as he calmed them, a hand on either side, pulling down the lace of her panties.

He laid his head on her thigh, breathing deeply. “Oh god, woman. You smell heavenly.”

“John,” she gasped. “Please…”

John spread her legs and blew gently across her curls. With his fingers he parted her labia, smiling at the glistening he saw there. She was hot and wet! He could take her right now, but he wanted this to last. He wanted to have her screaming his name!

Barely touching her, he ghosted his fingers over her clit, causing her to thrust her hips up. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “Just wait, my love.”

Abbie’s head was thrashing back and forth, the moans coming from deep within her were causing John’s cock to throb painfully. He flicked his tongue against her nub; she called out incomprehensible words. He licked and sucked his way from her clit to her perineum, swirling his tongue at her opening before plunging in.

She tasted of sweet and sour, of all the most delicious tastes in the world. He was lost in her womanhood, taking as much pleasure as he was giving. To bring his woman to completion this way was a man’s great treasure. To know that he, and he alone, could drive her to these heights was intoxicating.  He plunged his tongue deep into her vagina, while his thumb worked her little pearl of nerve-endings.

He could feel her tense, her hands were scrabbling at the sheets. One hand gripped his hair and pulled, he felt it deep in his balls. He could feel her coming, recognized the tightening of her vagina, the insistent grinding of her clit against his thumb. He stopped teasing and applied direct pressure, moving his thumb very little.

Suddenly she felt herself split apart! Her legs wrapped around John’s torso and she gripped his hair harder. A keening sound rose from her throat, followed by the screaming of her husband’s name. “John! Yes! Oh fuck, yes, just like-“

Her eyes flew open as she panted. John groaned and wrapped his hands around her ass, lifting her off the bed. He removed his thumb and replaced it with his tongue; soothing, gently lapping at her as she came back down to earth.

She lay there, unable to catch her breath for many moments. John laid his head on her hip and searched her face. He watched in wonder as it went from overwhelmed, to confused, to content.

He did that! He was the one who brought this kind of joy and happiness to her. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops!

He kissed his way up her body while she stretched languidly. “Ummm, come here,” she curled her forefinger at him.

“Gladly,” he growled.

She took his face and kissed him, soft butterfly touches of her lips against his. “Thank you.”

“It was my great pleasure,” he grinned.

He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. She straddled his hips and bent to kiss his chest. She took one nipple into her mouth and sucked greedily. “Mine!” she declared.

John placed his hands at her hips and manipulated her into a rolling motion. Her vagina rubbed against his still clothed penis leaving her wetness behind. She dismounted his hips and slowly removed his briefs. She kissed down his penis, laying at attention against his belly, and gently squeezed his balls.

His hips rose from the bed as he groaned, a deep rumbling sound from the bottom of his soul. She lavished attention on his dick until he could stand it no longer.

He grabbed her arms and forced her back into a straddling position. “Fuck me!” he demanded.

Abbie smirked, cocked an eyebrow at him and responded, “Aye, aye, mon capitaine!”

She worked herself against his dick, slathering him in her slickness, before taking a hold of him and positioning herself above. “Are you ready?” she teased.

“Fuck woman, I need you on my dick right now!”

Abbie sank fully onto his cock. He gave a shout and placed his hands at her waist. Matching her rythym, he thrust up into her. She tightened her Kegel muscles and John groaned. “So fucking tight…keep doing that.”

Abbie smiled, her head thrown back, as John adjusted his angle, hitting her g spot. “Fuck!” She gasped for air and leaned close to his chest. “Come on love. I want you to come in me! Oh please!”

Abbie sped up, clenching and unclenching her muscles. John worked his hips furiously, a thick bead of sweat appearing on his brow. Abbie licked his jaw and sucked on his ear. Again, she tightened and, with a shout, John slammed into her, digging his fingers into her waist.

He cried out, “Abbie! Fuck!”

Abbie ground her clit against his pubic bone, she kissed him, shouting her second release into his mouth. John continued to pump himself into her, slowing as he came back down.

With his penis still deep within her, she slumped against his chest. They lay like that for many minutes, both replete. As his penis reduced, she rolled off of him, staying within the circle of his arms. He kissed the top of her head and extolled, “That was fucking amazing!”

Abbie looked at him tenderly, she pressed a kiss to his jaw, murmuring, “My husband. I love you.”

John kissed her forehead, “I adore you.”

She chuckled, “You certainly do a good job of that!”

He glided his hand down her side, pausing as he saw the marks he left on her waist. He sat up and looked pained.

“What is it, love?” Abbie asked, concerned.

“I hurt you,” he whispered as his fingers grazed the bruises.

Abbie shook her head, “It doesn’t hurt.” She stretched and yawned. “They are love marks. Perfectly natural and totally acceptable.”

John lay back by her side, “You will need to get back at me.” He smiled widely.

“I could arrange that.”

John took her hand and moved it to his cock, “How about now?”


End file.
